Judge of Character
by TheStoryOf14
Summary: Bingley would just not listen to sense. So we moved to Netherfield. And that's when it all went wrong. Bingley got bewitched by some girl, and I could not get her sister out of my mind. And none of that was ever supposed to happen... P&P, Darcy's version :)
1. Netherfield

**Authors note: I do not own any characters created by Jane Austen. Full credit goes to her for all situations and information mentioned in her book ****_Pride and Prejudice_****, the storyline of this fanfic is all me and the little voice in my head – and thus, of course, not to be copied by anybody else – that would be stealing my creativity, my ideas – and not very nice**

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It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.  
However little known the feelings or views of this man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.  
And it was with this truth in mind, that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was trying very hard to dissuade his friend, Charles Bingley, from renting the house he had set his eye on.

Only last monday had his friend travelled south to inspect this house. He had come back filled with plans for redecorations, parties, and most of all: meeting new people and expanding their social circle.  
Darcy did not understand the attraction of the so-called 'rural life' and, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he could not phantom what good could come from moving away from the busy life of London, to a place where he doubted people would have ever heard of such a thing as business.

If Bingley had to move about, he thought, he might as well go to a place with some decent entertainment, acceptable company and a large library.  
The alternatives offered by an estate such as Netherfield Park, whether they be long walks, the simple life in the outdoors or splendid views, would, after all, hardly suffice to keep a company of the likes of their friends entertained.

After all, Mr. Hurst, quaint though he may be, was, if nothing else, quite set in his ways within the busy life that London held for him. The clubs, the cards, the gambling, ... No, Darcy could not see how he would manage to settle in to Netherfield, even if it did hold a rich collection of french wines.  
Mrs. Hurst, quite unlike her husband, was not that much of an avid for the ladies' clubs. She did, however, seem rather put on her daily walk trough the busy streets of London, searching for a dress, a hat, or just a simple trinket which she could wear at one of the numerous parties she had become quite famous for throwing.  
Charles' other sister, Caroline, enjoyed these parties just as much as her sister and brother-in-law, but to her, London held the added comfort of having all her painting- and drawing supplies right at her disposal, as well as having her numerous partitures always at hand.  
Really, Darcy thought, the only one who might possibly enjoy this trip into the stranger outskirts of England, was Bingley. And eventhough him and Bingley had been friends for longer than he cared to remember, he would never deny the fact that Bingley had a way of looking at things, that made them see much more easy than they actually were.

In short, Bingley could not be allowed to progress in this fashion, and if there was one person who could tell him so, it was Darcy.  
It was with this resolve in mind, that Darcy left for Bingley's.

When Darcey returned, he was not happy and, quite honestly, a bit shocked with Bingley's reaction to his expressing his doubts.

The younger man was usually easily influenced by those he considered his friends, feeling that, being the youngest, he should take into account the added experience they had.  
However, he had proven to be most headstrong on this particular subject.  
He was absolutely certain that this was the right thing to do, he was sure that Darcy would come to see this too, and he just knew that they would all toroughly enjoy their stay at Netherfield Park.  
Because if he went to Netherfield Park, so would the others, and go to Netherfield Park he would.

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**A/N So, here you have it: Pride and Prejudice, what Darcy thought... I'll try to update regularly, but those of you who are reading any of my other stories know that doing so is not my strongest point. However, I don't abandon fanfictions (like, ever) so don't worry: I'll eventually add a new chapter... Until then: please let me know what you thought by reviewing/following/favoriting!**


	2. The ball

**Authors note: I do not own any characters created by Jane Austen. Full credit goes to her for all situations and information mentioned in her book ****_Pride and Prejudice_****, the storyline of this fanfic is all me and the little voice in my head – and thus, of course, not to be copied by anybody else – that would be stealing my creativity, my ideas – and not very nice**

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He honestly couldn't believe that he was going to be stuck here for the next who knew how many months.

Everything was just so - so _rural_.

The people, their interests, their choice of conversation, their apparent need to just _promote_ themselves to anyone who might turn out to be a potential husband._  
_

Especially that one woman, the one with more daughters than she could obviously afford.  
Why didn't she just give them tags, proclaiming they were available?

Really, they had not been here for more than a fortnight, and already every man in the vicinity with a daughter who was out, seemed to have made their acquaintance. He might have found it entertaining, were it not for the fact that it was obvious they had quickly expanded their interest from Bingley to include him too.  
After all the advances he'd had to rebuke from Miss Bingley lately, he honestly could not say he was surprised, but it was very unpleasant none the less.

The very first night of their stay, they had been invited to a ball, organized by one of the town's upstanding citizens. From the very beginning it was clear that the larger part of the women had come there in search of a potential spouse. It should have come as no surprise that their entrance had been greeted with whispers and keen stares. At the beginning of the evening, he had the luck of being an unknown. Where Bingley's name and even worth were heard throughout the room, he was something of an enigma.

Unfortunately, though, the powers of provincial gossip proved to exceed his fervent wish for anonymity, and his name and value were passed from one eager woman to another. The attention he had thus far gotten as a friend of the most sought-after bachelor of the evening had increased tenfold as it occurred to them that he was 'even more of a catch', as he heard one woman say to a man he presumed was her husband.

More than ever before he wondered why he had not insisted to remain at home, if not at Pemberley, then at least at Netherfield. Although the library was not as complete as the one at Pemberley, and even though the gardens were not quite as wel kept, it would have been a definite improvement when compared to the eyes he could continuously feel on his back, trying to determine his desirability, making him want to crawl away.

It was at this moment that Miss Bingley decided to express her concurrence with his, apparently obvious, disapproval of the nights festivities. Were it not for the fact that she so blatantly pursued the same union every one of the women present seemed to seek, he would have gladly joined her in commenting upon the general behaviour of those he wished to avoid. As it was, however, he prefered to seek out his friend and inquire what his evening had been like. I had seen him dance with the one girl who immediately caught every man's eye, but I did not know whether any other woman had been honoured with his attention.

Very soon, though, it became clear that the blonde beauty was very much the only girl he noticed. Even during our conversation, brief though it was, he would repeatedly sneak a glance in her direction, even smiling to her. It was obvious, that at least one mother would go home a satisfied woman tonight. They talked for a few more minutes, and soon one of Bingley's most endearing traits emerged: whenever he was happy, truly content, he would not stop until those he held dear were the same. Unfortunately, on this occasion that consisted of trying to persuade me to consider dancing with one of the other women so numerously present.

Little did he know that at that moment, dancing was the last of my needs. A quiet room, a good book, perhaps even a single malt were the things foremost on my mind now, although it was questionable whether I would be able to enjoy those pleasures any time soon. I had never been able to either confirm or deny whether Bingley was aware of the direction his sister's attention took, but her ever persistent proximity had made it nigh impossible for me to ever truly be at ease. It was that which I truly missed most about home: its sophisticated peace, accompanied by the quiet presence of my sister.

Bingley, however, seemed very determined to have me change my mind, if not about women in general, then at least about my dancing with one of them tonight. As he went on and on about how pleasant the girls present were, I finally tried to halt him:

"_You_ are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," I said, hoping to persuade him to shift his attentions back to the beauty. Even then, he pointed out her sister to me, so that I saw myself forced to give a harsher response than I normally would have:

"She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt _me_; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

As I turned back, though, I found myself admiring the strength that spoke from her eyes, a thought that would linger for the rest of the night.

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**A/N Okay, first of all: I am so sorry for the delay in updating. Unfortunately, I can't give any guarantee that it's going to improve. I had something of a horrible year, so now not only do I have to retake 5 of my finals, I also have to read about 3000 pages of literature from the middle ages up to now before September, and I actually have to translate about half of them to the modern language before I can even start, so I'm going to be busy as it is. I also write as I go, so I'm a bit dependent on when inspiration strikes and when I actually have the time to sit down and write. I do promise, however, that I will not (ever!) abandon a story - I will finish them all, I just honestly don't know when. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading and feel free to let me know what you thought!**


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